Regarding Marceline
by Readythedrums
Summary: A thousand years is a long time. Marceline the Vampire Queen knows this better than anyone. A thousand years of hardships and triumphs, good times and bad. And those thousand years were just the beginning.
1. The Big Bang

So, er...This is awkward.

This is not only my first ever Adventure Time story, but it's also the first time I've ever posted a story of mine on the internet. So I'm kinda sorta extremely nervous. I'm fairly proud of this, though, and I did work pretty dang hard on it. So I'll stop babbling now and I'll just say, enjoy~

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><p>The sun was setting on the empty, desolate park when the oddly-colored little family decided to come by for a picnic.<p>

The pale woman took the lead, large parasol in one hand and a wicker picnic basket in the other. She whistled to herself happily, twirling the umbrella as if to shake water off it, despite the clear, crimson skies. Behind her was a gaunt-faced grey man in a sharp suit, hands in pockets and a little grey girl on his shoulders. Bare footed and more than a little dirty, she was chattering happily to the man, small hands knotted in his hair as if she were riding a horse. The family got to the base of the hill that was their destination and the man set off in a run, causing the girl to squeal in delight and wrap her hands around his head. At the top of the hill, he fell dramatically to the ground and the two collapsed into a fit of laughter. The woman shook her head, smiled, and gently took off the ground, gliding to the top of the hill to join her husband and daughter.

Within moments, a flowered blanket was set on the grassless ground, and it was covered with all varieties of foods: steaks still oozing with blood, pomegranates, cherries, apples, beets, tomatoes, strawberries, peppers, a tiered red velvet cake and, to top it off, a tall bottle of red wine. The family squeezed themselves onto what space remained on the blanket and dived into the food.

"You couldn't have chosen a lovelier spot, dear." The woman sighed happily. From the hill they could see all around them, from the murky green lake to the east to the towering skyscrapers of their city to the west. The woman eyed the sun as it slowly sunk into the skyscrapers. As it finally disappeared and the night took over, she sighed again, this time in relief, and closed the parasol. "I just hope we don't miss the show."

The man checked his watch. "We still have ten minutes, if my watch is right." Unlike his wife, who was sucking on a piece of dripping steak, slowly draining the red from it, and daughter, who had shoved a slice of cake in her mouth whole, he didn't touch the food. But he smiled lovingly at his wife, regardless. "I'm happy you like it, Aveline."

"It really is just lovely. And so quiet." Aveline the Vampire Queen sucked on a bit of steak bone, eyes distant. "It's been nothing but noise, noise, noise lately. Such a bother."

The man picked at his long, sharp teeth. "Well, that won't be much of a problem soon."

The girl tugged at the hem of her mother's dress. "Mom? Can I go to Sara's house tomorrow? Her mom said it's okay and we were going to play war, and I was going to be the bad guys. Sara _promised_."

Aveline's lips twitched in a mockery of a smile. She patted her daughter's dark hair and said, "I'm afraid not, Marceline. We'll be moving tomorrow."

"_Again_?" The girl cried. "But I was just starting to make friends! They didn't laugh at my skin or steal Hambo like people always do!" As if to emphasize her point, she squeezed the stained, patched bear to her chest and set her mouth in a firm pout.

"Your mother and I know that, Marcie." Her father said gently. "But after tomorrow this town won't be nearly as much fun anymore. You understand that, right?"

"No! Why?"

Aveline dragged the small girl to her. "Don't worry. Just sit back, eat and relax. We're all together now, as a family. Let's celebrate it."

Marceline opened her mouth to protest, but shirked away at the look on her mother's face, and instead opted for the bowl of cherries. She chewed on them sourly, spitting the pits at passing ants.

"Look there, Marcie." Her father said, pointing to the city skyline. "It should be any minute now…"

"I don't know." Aveline muttered to him, squinting into the empty distance. "Maybe your contact was wrong."

"Nonsense." He scoffed. "Bolf is the best psychic in the Nightosphere. He said it was happening now, at eight o'clock."

"Woth's 'aenning?" Marceline said thickly, her mouth full of cherries.

"Just watch." Her father hushed her.

For several long moments, the little grey family sat in silence. Then, Marceline's father whispered in her ear, "Do you know what an orchestra is, Marcie?"

The little girl shook her head, dark eyes wide and cheeks still puffed full of cherries.

"It's a group of musicians. They all play different instruments, and it all comes together to make music. But not just any music, it's big. It fills the entire air with its sound. And this is the world's biggest orchestra."

In the still, cold silence, a panic alarm rang out, clear as a knife cutting through the red skies. "Hear that?" He said. "That's the strings. Quiet at first, and soft…"

Someone screamed.

"Then comes the woodwinds."

The single scream doubled. Multiplied. Marceline shivered, swallowed and shirked back into her father's shadow as the screams multiplied again and again. They piled on each other, over and under and in-between in their desperation to get out.

Aveline sighed and closed her eyes. "The poor, sad things. They know what's coming and they can't even run fast enough."

Marceline's father's eyes were wide. Hungry. He licked his pale lips and continued. "Listen. This is just the beginning. The best part is about to come. The strings and the woodwinds are fine, just fine, but they're not enough. They lack substance, that _umph_ that ties the music together like string on a package. Just listen, Marcie. Any minute now, you'll hear it…"

Marceline wasn't sure when the sounds of the sirens and the screams of the people within the city blended together. But they did, into a single, palpable sound of fear. The lights of the town flickered and died as the city plunged into darkness and the fear writhed and contorted until it become something palpable; something that covered the little oddly-colored family like a blanket and threatened to smother them. It was then that Marceline saw the smoke trail. It was faint, but it traveled so far up she had to nearly lie down to look for it.

And Marceline's father grinned. "The drums."

Marceline once watched a video of a tree growing. Once a day every day for years the photographer took a photo of a tree, starting from when it was only a seed, and then compiled the photos together into a video. The little sapling spouted out of the ground and reached its arms to the sky, and grew taller and stronger as it tried to touch the sky in vain. It never reached the sky, even though Marceline egged it on.

The explosion was a lot like that tree, in its way. The bomb connected with the town, and the seed was planted. In a second it had sprouted, and its trunk of dust and debris grew and expanded like lightning. The skyscrapers and buildings were engulfed in its trunk, and Marceline could all but see Sara's house, torn away like tissue. The trunk, aged and brown already, twisted and grew and grew and _grew_…And then the leaves, grotesque and bulbous as they were, sprouted, and the tree stood tall over what was once the town.

This tree touched the sky.

"It's a mushroom." Marceline breathed. "Daddy, the orchestra's a _mushroom_."

"Mmm-hmm." Her father had his attention on his wife, who had her hands clutched to her chest, face bright and breathless.

"Mom! Daddy! Look, it's _snowing_!" Hand-in-hand with Hanbo, Marceline jumped to her feet and pointed eagerly at the white flakes falling softly from the sky.

"Oh, honey, that isn't snow—" Aveline began, finally broken away from the spell of the explosion, but she was too late. Marceline was already halfway at the bottom of the hill, giggling and dancing in the storm.

"Let her have her fun." Marceline's father said dismissively. He reached for the wine and poured two glasses, then handed one to his wife. It matched the color of the sky.

Aveline took the glass. "It's beautiful." She muttered.

"It's pointless. Destructive. Chaotic." Marceline's father beamed. "It is indeed beautiful."

Aveline held up the wine to the sky. Through the glass she could just see the mushroom cloud, slowly stretching over the little oddly-colored family and covering them in its shade. "It's hit the west now. Soon this war will engulf the world, won't it. This…Oh, what did Bolf say it will be called?"

"The Great Mushroom War." Her husband said. "A little dramatic, but it'll do."

"This Great Mushroom War." Aveline finished. "A toast, then?"

He laughed. "To the souls it'll destroy! The lives it will ruin, the wastelands it'll create…To the Great Mushroom War."

The two glasses gently clinked together in the dead silence of the red night. "To the Great Mushroom War."


	2. The Axe Bass

Gosh, I'm embarrassed. I haven't looked at this story in quite a while, but after going over it again I realize that I uploaded the _wrong damn file_. I uploaded an older, unedited one instead of my final product, and I apologize profusely for that. The updated chapter isn't too different, but you'll find that it's a bit longer and I don't have sentences stopping in the middle of nowhere.

Thank you for everyone who has favorited, followed, and commented on Regarding Marceline so far. It means a tremendous deal to me, I want to make that clear.

However, **Regarding Marceline is on an indefinite hiatus**. More and more, I find myself having to force myself to so much as look at this story, much less work on it. I don't enjoy it, I don't particularly think it's very well written. Please, **please do not ask me to update this work.** It is incredibly inconsiderate and it does not make me want to work on it any further. I may continue to update Regarding Marceline in the future, I may not. However, once again, I please ask that you not send me messages or reviews asking me to update.

If you have any questions you can message me on Tumblr, my username there is namelessshameless. Thank you, again.

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><p>Marceline wasn't a very picky girl. Some people chose to hate one thing or two things…she chose to hate just about everything. Ducks, for one. Crystal balls and slap bracelets were some more. The list was very long, she could assure you. But see, she had never quite gotten it in her mind to hate dark, musty, dripping caves hidden under cliffs in the middle of Buttend, Nowhere. Now that she was lost in one, she realized she did hate them. Quite passionately, in fact.<p>

"Dad?" Marceline ducked underneath a stalactite (Stalagmite?) and carefully made her way down the tunnel. It was pitch-black, but unlike her father she didn't have the benefit of night vision, which resulted in several head-on collisions with the wall. And by "several" it was actually every few steps. "Da—_Ouch_. Stupid freaking rocks. Dad, I got your note! Where the heck are you?"

No response. Of course.

Fourteen steps and six head bumps later, the tunnel than began to narrow, until Marceline could touch both sides with her arms outstretched. Deep within the tunnel, she could just make out a prick of green light. Marceline breathed an exclamation she would never make in front of her mother and rushed towards it.

She skidded to a stop at the entrance, and her eyes widened.

The tunnel burst into an enormous cavern, as dripping and musty as the tunnel before it. But unlike the tunnel it was full of thick, glimmering crystals in all shades of greens and blues, jutting out from the sides and illuminating the entire room in brilliant, colored light. A stone dais stood in a pool of clear water in the middle of the cavern, shrouded in the fog that covered the whole floor like a thick blanket.

Marceline tied her dark hair into a ponytail before pulling out a piece of weathered parchment from her pocket. She could finally properly go over the note again.

_My dear Marceline,_

_I know it's been a while since I last saw you, and I apologize for that. Meet me on Abadeer Cove on the coast of Utah tomorrow. There's a cave hidden deep underneath the cove, the password is "philoprogenitiveness". Don't be alarmed if you see some bats flying around, the pustules are normal. I promise I'll explain everything there. _

_Love, Dad _

_PS: Tell your mother I said hi. _

_PSS: Unless she's still mad at me. In that case, don't. Please._

Marceline folded the letter carefully and put it away again. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and wandered to the center of the cavern.

It wasn't terribly large, but it was _tall_, the crystal-laden walls stretching as far up as she could see. Water splashed up to her knees as she waded through the pool in the center to reach the dais. A white, stone table, the only thing artificial in the cavern, stood on the dais, engraved with intricate carvings of an origin Marceline didn't know or particularly care to know.

A girl, cheeks shining with tears, was tied and gagged to the table.

The girl's eyes connected with Marceline's. Immediately, she began to squeal against her gag and writhe violently. Marceline sighed and leaned against the table. "Hey, have you seen my dad around? About yay high, wears a dumb old suit?" Marceline held a hand up to illustrate, but the girl merely continued to struggle against her restraints. Marceline scowled. "Look, you don't care. Fine, whatever. But I'm already late and I have to be home before dark, so I haven't really got time to mess around."

The girl said nothing.

"You're a fat load of help." The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and Marceline sniffed the air, frowning. Something was wrong. "Do you smell that?" She asked the girl. The girl shook her head, and Marceline sighed. She ducked under the table, only to see a large, grinning face etched on the underside. A thick white substance was dripping down from the undersides, collecting in a puddle on the floor. Marceline caught a drop on her hand and sniffed it. "Eugh—Rotten bug milk," She muttered. "That's not good. This is very not—"

From deep within the tunnels, there was a sound of chanting. Very not good indeed. She dived behind a nearby blockish crystal, just in time to see two dozen red-cloaked figures, all of varying heights and degrees of wiriness, emerge from the very tunnel she had just climbed through. They were humming and chanting something very old and very powerful. The two at the rear had large drums hanging from their necks, and were banging against them in a tuneless roar.

The men thinned into a line and marched through the cavern. A slab of solid stone rose out of the water to create a bridge for them, which they crossed to reach the dais, unfazed.

Marceline slinked back smaller behind the crystal.

The tallest and wiriest man threw back his hood, to reveal wispy white hair and a gaunt face. He pulled a silver dagger from the sleeve of his cloak, and used it to carefully cut the gag from the girl's mouth.

She immediately began screaming. "_Please_, Father Dennisof! Please, I promise, I'll be good, I'll go to the temple with Mama and I won't see Aleis anymore, just please, _please_, let me—"

"Do be _quiet_, girl," The old man, Father Dennisof, rasped. "Trust me, this is much harder on me than it is on you."

One of the cloaked men sniggered.

"Please, Father. Please just let me—"

"I told you to be quiet." The girl gave a choked cry of pain as the Father sliced her arm. Blood, clean and pure, flowed from the cut, onto the table, and began to drip onto the dais below.

And the dias trembled.

"Your sacrifice is much appreciated, child." He said, patting her reassuringly on the clean arm. She was screaming too loudly for him to be heard.

_Oh jeez_, Marceline thought to herself. _Please no. Please don't_—

The drummers banged their drums and the chanters began to mutter to themselves. Quietly, at first, and then louder.

"_Maloso vobiscum et spiritum_."

And louder.

"_Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum!" _

With an unnecessary flourish of his cape, the Father spun around to face the men before him. _"_Raise! Father of Demons, Destroyer of Worlds, King of Hellfire! Raise, Lord of Evil!"

Marceline buried her face in her hands. _Great. Not again._

The girl thrashed violently, her screams climbing higher and higher in pitch. The crystals around the cave began to shake and tremor, until fissures exploded at their core. Marceline chewed on a thumbnail, sulking, as the girl's skin began to darken and crack, like old paint. A crystal exploded. Then another. Blood began seeping from every discernible orifice, even the cracks in her skin, staining the white of her dress. Then, the girl gave one, good final thrust, and her restraints broke like tissue.

For a long, still moment, she levitated above the table, eyes lifeless and mouth hung open. The cloaked men hung onto her every moment, silent.

Her head twitched one way, then another. She shuddered, and with one, final twitch, collapsed into dust on the table.

_Thank goodness that's over_, Marceline thought to herself. She cleaned out an ear, wincing.

The father was handed a staff from another cloaked man, which he began to slam against the floor in a beat as the table and dais slowly began to sink into the ground. They were still chanting. "_Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum … Maloso vobiscum et cum spiritum …_"

The entire floor began to shake as the hole that once held the dais glowed with a brilliant red light.

That's when the Lord of Evil crawled out.

Marceline had seen his "true" form before (Or rather, what he said was his true form, she had never quite believed him on that part). It was ugly, no doubt, but she had never really seen what was so scary about it.

The tentacles came out first, grasping the entrance to the portal, breaking away stone in the process of pulling himself up. His body was all oozes and pustules, bulbous and enormous, and as he rose he quickly dwarfed the little men below him. He opened his slit-like mouth, and screamed.

Humans were just big babies, honestly.

The cloaked men fell to their knees, and the Father watched with a kind of hungry sort of anticipation. The Lord of Evil opened his mouth, and a whip of air that was the girl's soul was sucked from the pile of ash and into his mouth. He smacked his mouth and grimaced.

And then he spoke.

"Was that _really_ the best you could do?"

The men collectively ceased to breathe.

The Father's pale hands trembled. "No, I—I mean, yes, but I—We didn't—"

He opened his mouth once more, and the Father's soul was consumed just as the girl's was. The empty body flopped to the ground, useless.

"Which of you is in charge?"

The men glanced at each other. The foremost man in red was urged forward by his fellows, and he muttered, "Father Dennisof, was, my Lord. You…just…ate him."

Marceline could have sworn she saw the Lord of Evil roll his eyes. "Well whoever is in charge now, heed this: Prepare me a proper virgin soul next time. If there will be a next time."

The new Father stammered an agreement.

"Begone with you." The Lord of Evil screeched, and the men lost all sense of propriety. They made a mad dash for the exit.

The Lord of Evil, sighed, and straightened. He convulsed and twisted as he folded into himself and rapidly shrunk in size. His skin solidified and greyed, and a sharp, dark suit materialized around him.

"You can come out now, Marceline." Her father said, buttoning his cuffs.

Marceline peeked out of the crystal and, slowly, warily, walked over to him, nearly tripping on the body of the Father in the process. "Let me guess," she said, struggling to regain her bearings. "You got another cult?"

"Third one this month." Marceline's dad said. He twisted around on his sharp heels to face her. "I have a certain way with people, it's a very important trait to have, Marcie. I get all the virgin souls with none of the effort. And in return, I don't demolish their village and slaughter them like cattle! That's what's called a symbiotic relationship."

"I know what a symbiotic relationship is, Dad."

"Of course you do." he said. He grabbed Marceline by the shoulders. "Just look at you! All grown up. How old are you now—Thirteen?"

"I'm fifteen." Marceline snapped, yanking her shoulders out of her father's grip. "Which you would _know _if you hadn't been gone for the past _five years_."

He frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, that can't be right. Last time I saw you was…was…Oh. Hmm," He laughed, utterly failing to hide the unease behind the action. "Last time I saw you was in New Memphis, so…that would make it five years, wouldn't it?"

"Glad we had this chat," Marceline turned to leave, only to be stopped by her father's hand on her wrist.

"Listen, Marceline," he said gently. "I feel terrible about the way our last meeting went. I really want to make it up to you."

"Like how." Marceline muttered.

"Do you know where this place is?"

Marceline glanced at the cracked crystals and the topless walls. "No."

He gave a toothy grin and offered his hand. "Want me to show you?"

On the flight there, Marceline had written a list of all the things she would tell her dad that he had done wrong. Things like "Walking out on us whenever you got bored" and "Making Mom cry a lot and yelling at her too much" and "Never stealing me that bicycle for my ninth birthday even though the world's already ended, it's not like anyone else _needs_ a bicycle anymore." She titled her list "Why You're Pretty Much the Worst Dad in the History of Ever" and she was very proud of it, thank you very much.

The list was in her back pocket, an easy reach away.

She took his hand instead.

He led to the edge of the cavern, where a slab of wall slid open for them. The entryway led to yet _another_ tunnel, to Marceline's disgust, but she followed him down, through the blackness and stupid freaking stalactites smacking her in the face.

The tunnel suddenly dropped dramatically, and Marceline tripped over the rocky ground, arms flailing.

"Whoa there!" Marceline's dad grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet mid-fall. "You okay, honey?"

"I'm, uh…" Her dad was smiling at her. Not grinning. Not smirking. Just smiling. "I'm fine. Thanks, Dad."

"Good to know," he led her back down, keeping one hand at a hair's breadth near her back.

She reached out and touched her shoulders to make sure that they were still there.

The tunnel wound down and down, and the two made small talk as they went. Things like how's your mother ("Fine"), how's school going ("Dad, I don't go to school"), have you met any cute- ("Stop")

When the tunnel finally threatened to burst into another cavern, Marceline's dad slid in front of her, blocking her path. He rubbed his grey hands together and beamed. "This is what I've been wanting to show you. I've been waiting for just the right time."

"What makes now so special?"

"The Nightosphere has had a—backlog of immigrants. I've finally gotten the herd sorted out!" He rocked on his heels as he spoke. "Now, you're old enough, and I finally have the time."

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you," Marceline said.

"_Immensely_," He gestured behind him, and backed away to let Marceline through.

This cavern was darker, and lower, and glowed with an amber sort of light from the pinpricks of holes that littered the walls. The light was illuminating statues, hundreds of statues, of everything from wood to copper and everything in-between. Some were men, fewer were women, but most seemed to be something else entirely.

Marceline crept to the nearest statue. Under its cloven feet, a small bronze plaque proclaimed a long name that she couldn't pronounce, with merely the word _Endless_ where a birth and death date should be. "These are all…" She breathed.

"Abadeers," Marceline's dad was one octave away from squealing. "All of them! Never knew you had such a long line, did you?"

"No," Marceline reached out to touch the statue of her endless ancestor. The stone gave under her fingers, and when she pulled her hand back it was covered in dust. "I had no idea."

He took her hand once again and pulled her. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of them."

Marceline's dad took her along the long lines of statues, naming them in succession.

"This is my father, Horatio. You met him when you were very small, I doubt you remember….Oh! Down there is my great-great grandfather, he was very popular down in the Nightosphere. His plague was _legendary_. And down here—"

Marceline wasn't paying attention. Something else had caught her eye.

A short tunnel led away from the cavern, leading to a nondescript wooden door. What captivated Marceline, however, was the bright, white light emitting gently from beneath the door.

"Hey Dad, where does that lead?" Marceline asked, pointing toward the light.

Marceline's father raised his eyebrows and glanced back. "Oh—that's the family weapons room. It's really boring, I wouldn't bother with it."

"Can I go inside?" she asked.

"I'd rather you didn't," He put a hand on her back. "Come along now."

Marceline's eyes never left the door as her father led her away. She bit her lip and glanced at her father, and then the door, and then her father again.

"Um…" She pulled away. "I have to use the little monster's room. You go ahead, I'll catch up." Marceline backed away, and when her father shrugged and continued along on his own she rushed towards the door.

The family weapons room turned out to be exactly as the name described.

The walls of the cavern were littered with all sorts of weapons: swords of all shapes and sizes, maces with glittering spikes, knives and spears, nunchucks and bows, and even an enormous guillotine, blade caked with dark blood. More weapons were hung on racks and stacked on shelves, even, as she discovered upon opening one, stashed in cupboards.

But what caught Marceline's eye was the large white axe, thrust deep into what was not quite a stone, so much as it was a slab of the rocky ground, jutting from the floor.

The axe wasn't glowing, per say, nor was it illuminated in any sort of fashion. But it was giving off a bright light regardless, one that seemed to dim as she stepped towards it. She reached a hand towards it, then changed her mind at the last second and snapped it back.

Power rolled off of the axe in waves, dark and rather foreboding. It unsettled her, and the fact that it could said quite a bit.

"What are you?" She muttered to the axe. "Something old, I'll bet. And powerful."

Marceline glanced towards the doorway, and then back to the axe again.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, her mother always said. Right?

Marceline took a deep breath and stepped towards the axe. She grasped the handle with both hands and tugged at it with all her strength.

Nothing.

She pulled again and again and again, finally resorting to climbing on top of the slab to squat down and pull. Still, the obstinate thing refused to budge.

With her luck, the damn thing would turn out to be enchanted, so only someone special could pull it from the ground. Or maybe you had to be a demon to wield it, like her father, or—

Marceline gave one more firm tug and pulled the axe from the stone. Grinning, she slashed it through the air, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Or it could have just been stuck in there deep.

Marceline leapt gracefully back onto the ground, and sat down on the stone to examine the axe. It was old, no doubt about it. The head was chipped and dirty, and the blade was so dull she could grasp it safely. It was also _heavy_, so heavy she was forced to prop it on her knees when her arms rapidly began to tire.

"You look like you've been through some battles." She muttered to the axe, running her fingers along the edge.

As if giving an affirmative, she could swear that it pulsed beneath under her touch.

Marceline stood, and dug a hand into her other pocket. She pulled out a handful of dull purple dust and blew it onto the stone. The air shimmered and glittered, and a perfect replication of the axe appeared.

"And now you're mine."

"Marceline?" Her father's voice echoed from deep the outer chamber.

"Coming, Dad!"

Marceline pulled her pocket open and dropped the axe inside. For a long moment there was silence, until there was a small, satisfying _thunk_. She grinned, and dashed to the open door. She just managed to slide through it and close the door behind her as as her dad walked up.

"How was your restroom break?" he asked.

"Great! Liberating."

"What are you doing standing in front of that door?"

"Uh—Just looking." Marceline carefully pasted a grin on her face, and edged the leg of the pocket that held the axe back. "Couldn't resist. Sorry."

Marceline's father raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" Marceline said quickly. "I'm just, uh…starving, is all. Haven't eaten all day."

"Really?" He asked. "We can go out to eat somewhere, if you'd like. I know a real good place near Seattle."

"Um…"What about exploring the rest of the cave?"

"We can come back after lunch. Come on! My treat."

Marceline nodded weakly. "Sure. Sounds great."

Marceline's dad spun around and put his hands out, one above another, before quite literally tearing the air open. With a _whoosh_ of wind, a vacuum was created and a portal was formed. Through it Marceline could see the fuzzy shape of a decrepit old diner. "After you," he said, gesturing through the portal.

Marceline put one hand on her pocket, and took a deep breath. She smiled at her dad, and then climbed through.

It was raining softly as she climbed out. Marceline covered her head and dashed to the doors.

The diner was small and dark, and smelled vaguely of rust and wet dog. Marceline blinked, trying to adjust to the lack of light. With a small breath of air, her dad appeared behind her. He was squinting at the overhead menu, somehow completely dry.

"What do you feel like getting?"

"Whatever you can afford, I guess," Marceline said, shrugging.

"Whatever I can what?"

"Afford. What money you can give up," Marceline said slowly. "You know, like, to pay for things. Objects of value."

"Humans and their money," Marceline's dad scoffed.

"You don't have any, do you."

He grinned guiltily. "You do know I love you, right, Marcie."

"Yep," Marceline sighed, walking up to the counter.

"Atta girl! I'll grab us a table."

Marceline rolled her eyes, and smiled at the cashier. "Hi."

"Uh, hi." The boy behind the counter drawled. His skin was a sickly green color and seemed to be falling off of his bones. "Welcome to Chuck's Burgers. Open 24/7, nuclear fallout allowing. How can I, uh, help you?"

"Could you get me, um…" Marceline glanced back at her dad, who was poking around the ruined tables disdainfully. "Just some fries."

The boy scratched at the large pustule on his neck. "Uh, for here or to go."

"Here."

"Uh, what'll you give for that?"

Marceline frowned, and dug through her pocket. "Sorry, it's in here…" She pulled out a large cricket, which, with an indignant _chirp_, hopped out of her hand and dashed for the door. "No, that's not it….Aha!" She pulled out a small battery and tossed it to the boy, whose eyes widened.

"Wow, uh…Uh, thanks," He glanced back at the kitchen, where Marceline could just make out a cook, scratching his large stomach. "Make that order on the double!"

Marceline went to sit by her dad, who was nudging aside a moldy plank of wood away with the tip of his shoe. "This place is a little more…decrepit then I remember," he said disdainfully.

"When's the last time you came here?" she asked.

"About eight…nine years ago? Time's funny when you're immortal."

"I wouldn't know," Marceline snorted. "That's when the Mushroom War hit the West, Dad. We were there."

"Were we? I don't remember. But come now, you'll be immortal yourself soon enough!" her dad said cheerfully, nudging her. "Only three years, and you'll take your mother's—"

Marceline stood up very quickly, nearly knocking her chair back in the process. "I think my food's ready." she said loudly. She stomped back to the counter, making sure to noisily trip on bits of broken chairs on the way.

"Sorry, uh, give us another, uh…five minutes." The boy said, glancing lazily back at the cook. The cook sniffed and waved.

"Yeah, okay. I'm just going to stand her for a minute." Marceline said.

"Uh…" The boy cocked his head at her. "You okay?"

Marceline had her arms firmly crossed, and her sharp nails were digging into her arms. Specks of blood bubbled at her nails. "Yep! Why?"

The boy glanced at the blood, and scratched at his neck. "No reason."

For what seemed like an eternity, Marceline stood at the counter. Her head felt fuzzy. Slowly, she lowered one hand and placed it over her pocket. The axe felt heavy enough to send her crashing through the floor and into the center of the earth.

Or she thought that was the axe, anyway.

"Miss?"

Marceline snapped back to reality. The cashier was holding a Styrofoam carton in his hands.

"Your, uh, food, miss."

"Thanks," Marceline snatched the carton away from him, rather more forcefully than necessary.

"I heard the food's great here," Marceline's dad said as she sat down. She opened the carton, and nudged around the fries inside. They were ice cold.

Marceline bit into a fry and winced. She banged it against the table lightly, but it wouldn't give.

"Marcie?"

"Yeah Dad?" She strained to break the fry in half.

"Are you alright? You seem distracted."

Marceline looked up at her father. "Maybe I am, just a bit," she muttered.

"What's wrong?"

Marceline threw the fry down. It landed with a tiny _clunk_, and Marceline bit her lip. "What's really going on here?"

Marceline's father frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, something's going on. You wouldn't call me out here for some weird, bizarro world father-daughter bonding unless you had _something_ going on behind the curtain."

With a chuckle, Marceline's dad shook his head. "Is that why you've been so grumpy all day? Marceline, I've felt terrible for how I've neglected you these past few years. Things at work have been slowing down, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to finally catch up."

Marceline frowned. "That's just it? You just wanted to see me?"

"That's it. No ulterior motive, no other agenda. I just wanted to spend an afternoon with my daughter."

Oh. Marceline glared down at her sneakers, trying to hide the blush that threatened to creep up her face. "I'm, uh…Going to grab some ketchup for these," She stood up once again, tripping on her chair in the process.

"Can I have one?" He asked as she left, gesturing to the fries.

"Sure," she said dismissively.

She hugged her midsection as she crossed the diner in small strides. Her dad hadn't changed much, really. He was still awkward and nerdy and really, really weird. He was the only person she knew who would get all excited over old statues of dead people.

But then….

She grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the counter and twirled it in her hands absentmindedly. But then, she did appreciate that he showed them to her. She never thought of her dad's side much. As much as the Nightosphere fawned over their Oh-So-Glorious Leader, it never really thought to mention his predecessors. It was nice to know that they were there, and that her dad was the one to tell her about them.

Did this mean he was finally going to be a proper dad for her?

_A proper dad_, she thought on the way back to the table. Excitement creeped down to her step, _like the ones on TV. One that'll return my calls and visit me when I'm sick and buy me things from his—_

Or not.

Her dad glanced up from the table, her fries in his hands, half-eaten.

Once said, she realized the words sounded stupid, even to her. It was a dumb thing to be upset about, much less cry over. But that didn't stop her saying it, and it didn't stop the tears backing up in her eyes.

"Daddy…_why_?"

She slammed the ketchup to the ground. It exploded, spreading red gook everywhere. With a sniffle and a hiccup, she turned and stormed out into the rain.


End file.
